


shibuya symphonies

by izabellwit



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Development, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Developing Friendships, During Canon, Epic Friendship, Families of Choice, Friendship/Love, Gen, October Prompt Challenge, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Swearing, TWEWYTOBER, TWEWYTOBER 2020, will update tags as more prompts are written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 16,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izabellwit/pseuds/izabellwit
Summary: If Shibuya is the people and the people are Shibuya, then the music they create must be something else.(A TWEWYtober 2020 prompt collection.)
Relationships: Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo & Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya & Misaki Shiki & Sakuraba Neku, Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo & Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya & Sakuraba Neku, Misaki Shiki & Sakuraba Neku
Comments: 99
Kudos: 55





	1. Costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave in and decided to do TWEWYtober. We will see how this goes... If it works out, I should be posting a new prompt every day, so be sure to subscribe to this fic for the updates!!
> 
> Also, happy October first!!

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” Neku asks him, later, three months after the Game. There is no anger in his voice but his eyes are watchful, wary; he side-eyes Joshua like he’s waiting for a reaction. 

Joshua, for his part, is not inclined to give him one. He hums under his breath and fiddles with his phone, kicking his feet out over the empty air. Hachiko is lovely this time of year—all those falling leaves—and no one ever gives Joshua dirty looks for sitting against the statue, though perhaps that might be because Joshua isn’t letting them see him at all. Perhaps.

Neku is still waiting. Joshua rolls his eyes and tilts back his head. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more precise, Neku,” he says, and kicks out his legs again, cheerfully putting his foot through a passerby. The man jumps and shivers and curses out the wind. Joshua smiles. “What exactly are you referring to? I’m not a mind-reader, you know.”

Neku hardly even bats an eye at Joshua’s comments anymore; Joshua isn’t sure whether to find it funny or unsettling, that already Neku knows him this well. He tries not to think about it. As it is, all Neku does is cross his arms and sink back against the statue, eyes fixed and focused on Joshua’s face.

“This,” Neku says, and Joshua gives him an annoyed look for that one, because _really,_ Neku, does that clear anything up at all— “everything, being... I don’t know, human. Joshua. Whatever.” His fingers are curled tight around his arms, and this time his gaze drops, laser-eyed at the ground. His lips press. He says nothing else. But Joshua can hear it anyway, because Neku is always so, so loud, so full of noise. Even when he says nothing at all, his mind is always singing.

 _This._ Them. This moment three months after, this autumn morning, this easy day. Whatever this is, Joshua playing casual in the UG and Neku standing beside him, the only one in the crowd who knows Joshua is there.

Joshua is quiet for a moment. Then he kicks Neku in the side. 

“ _Ow!_ Hey! Asshole—“

“Neku.”

Neku stops. His shoulders tense.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Joshua informs him, mildly.

There is a long pause. Neku blinks. His brow furrows. Joshua raises both eyebrows at him, waiting, and Neku studies his face like he’s looking for an answer and then turns away and rolls his eyes.

“Jerk,” Neku says scornfully, with great feeling. But he has relaxed somewhat, he has breathed some quiet sigh of relief, some tension gone from his eyes. Joshua eyes him, watchful— and then, when Neku seems content to leave it there, Joshua smiles, a little quiet.

There is nothing more to say. The moment moves on. The leaves are still falling; the music settles on the next note. Neku closes his eyes and soaks in the sunshine, and Joshua hums and leans back against the statue, watching the city wander by, so full of life, so full of music, and so much brighter to his eyes with Neku here by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neku, trying to fit the idea of “Joshua” together with “immortal god of the underworld”: are we friends
> 
> Joshua, former misanthrope, usually avoids other people like the plague: does my being here right now mean NOTHING to you
> 
> Neku, also former misanthrope: …ah
> 
> I love their dynamic. I really, really do. Absolute idiots!! Look at them go!! (I wasn't actually intending to go this route with the prompt, but honestly I'm really happy with it, ahaha.)
> 
> Any thoughts?


	2. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhyme and erasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: canon-typical violence and death, erasure and the implications, etc. Let me know if there's anything I missed!

Is it fading or is it in a flash? Rhyme isn’t sure they know.

They try not to think about it too much. From the moment they wake up, from the moment the Game starts and Rhyme knows what’s _really_ at stake… they try not to think about it, but they find themself wondering anyway. The nice lady who vanished at the Department store— the man who fell before the Reaper’s Wall—did it hurt? Did they feel it? They didn’t scream, or shout, or anything like that. They just faded away. Sometimes in seconds. Sometimes in the blink of an eye.

Rhyme hopes it doesn’t hurt.

They ask Beat his thoughts once—only once—and he looks unsettled and then unsure and then says, “Well, it’s not gonna happen, so don’t worry about it, yeah?” But there’d been a darkness to his eyes, later, an angry grit to his teeth at the next vanishing, like he didn’t know whether to witness it or look away, and Rhyme doesn’t ask again.

They think erasure is supposed to be slow, maybe? Like falling asleep, or dreaming, or— going away. You breathe in and breathe out and you’re gone before you even realize you were falling.

Beat says, “Rhyme, I’m tellin’ you—don’t worry about that shit. We’re gonna make it no matter what!” 

Rhyme believes him. Speaking shall make it so, right? Except that Beat is racing ahead now and Neku and Shiki are too far behind them. And they hear a burst of high and cold laughter in the air—see the flutter of dark wings—a sharp grin around a lollypop stick. And Beat is waving at them. And he is smiling. And there is a symbol starting to burn red beneath his feet.

They don’t know Beat all that well. He’s an unknown to them; kind, brash, bold. He remindsRhyme of their brother, for reasons they can’t name. But in this moment Rhyme feels whited out and small, shocked out of reality and into motion, their brother and Beat overlapping in their head and they’re running for him before they know it—

_Beat, wait, they didn’t mean it—Beat, wait up, wait for me!_

—the sound of tires squealing in their ears, or maybe it's the gnashing of teeth. And Rhyme is shoving Beat out of the way except maybe instead it is Beat pushing Rhyme—his arms tight around them, his voice caught in a yell, desperate—and Beat has fallen back on the pavement and he’s alive, he’s alive, their brother is _alive_ —

And the end is faster then Rhyme thought it would be, maybe, except they’re no longer there to think such things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day two! So far so good, yeah? 
> 
> Short and sweet for this one— I had a lot of trouble coming up with words today, ahaha. My first thought at “fading” was erasure. And who better to reflect on erasure than Rhyme? They’re probably the only one of the group (besides maybe Joshua) who would know what the experience is like.
> 
> I'm on twitter as @izabellwit-- come talk twewy with me! 
> 
> Any thoughts?


	3. Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiki and Neku in Ten-Four, before everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I wasn't sure if I would get this one out on time... the words have not been working for me recently, ahaha. I hope this reads okay even so!
> 
> Warnings for mild body dysphoria (due to Shiki's fee situation), as well as a brief mention to gender dysphoria as well.

Shiki can honestly admit she wasn’t expecting the shopping trip to go this way.

Deep down, some part of her is still shocked they went shopping at all. Sure, Shiki had insisted and put her foot down and demanded like the best of them, but all in all Neku had given in without much convincing needed. It kind of throws her off, a little? Shiki spent precious time yesterday playing out dramatic internal debates in her head, trying to find the best way to ask, and in the end he’s hardly resisted at all. 

_He’s not as bad as he was at the start._ Though, Shiki thinks, he could still stand to be nicer! Honestly. He hasn’t called her by her name even once, and it’s already Day 4.

But again—shopping. Shiki hadn’t been planning on taking too long; she’d just wanted a quick stroll through the shelves, time to take in the new trends and wares, just a taste of her usual normalcy. It’s not like she wants to keep Beat and Rhyme waiting, after all. She really wasn’t expecting… well, this. 

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Eiji Oji, fashion icon of Shiki’s dreams, is saying. “Remember my advice, young man!”

Really, Shiki thinks to herself, a little dazed. Who would have thought?

It’s over as quick as the encounter began, anyhow—the Prince of Ennui wanders away and leaves Neku staring daggers in his back, red in the face. Shiki can’t even appreciate the moment for what it is—because hello!!! Prince!! Talking to THEM!—because now she’s stuck on what he said, and on second thought Neku’s clothes really do look… well… it’s really not that she thinks they’re _bad,_ but…

And now Neku has noticed her staring. The red deepens in his cheeks; he sinks behind his collar, glowering. _“What?”_

He’s practically swallowed up by that collar. Totally wrapped in it. She thinks of spicy tuna rolls and hopes it doesn’t show on her face. “N-nothing.”

Neku does not look convinced. Shiki waves her hands. “Really! Never mind. It’s just… uh… shopping! Right! Edoga’s this way, I’ll be real quick, let’s just…”

She rushes off, her face hot with embarrassment. To her relief, after only a moment of quiet muttering, Neku follows after her.

Oh, thank goodness. She loves Prince—how could she not?—but if that comment had made Neku want to leave, after all the worrying and work Shiki put into convincing him… well.

It’s nice, to be back here. Weird, a little, to be in Ten-Four without Eri, but nice all the same. Normal. Shiki steps into the shops she knows by heart and brushes her hands over the fabrics. The neat stitching… that new pattern… there’s always something new to see. Always something to learn from it all.

She smiles, lost in thought and memories and the echo of Eri’s voice in her ears. She steps inside the store and reaches up to adjust her glasses—and then stops, her fingers brushing empty air.

…Oh. Right.

Shiki stills, a little stiff, staring at her hands. Eri’s bangle on her wrist. Her fingers free from the callous and scars of needlework. The bright red hair framing her face. How funny. This is all she’s ever wanted, a body that finally feels _right,_ but…

In this moment, it doesn’t feel like her at all.

“Oi, Stalker. Are you here to shop or not?”

Neku. “It’s _Shiki,”_ she tells him, shocked out of thought and straight into annoyance. Honestly! He’s such a jerk.

Neku rolls his eyes a little and sinks behind his collar, but he doesn’t say anything else, and when Shiki turns back around she feels, for some reason, a little better. She shakes her head hard and draws herself tall. Oh, what is she doing? She’s being silly. She’s fine. This is—it’s fine.

Still. It helps, bizarrely, to say her name aloud. Almost like she’s reminding herself, too.

But that’s an uncomfortable kind of thought, in a way, so Shiki shoves it back and moves on. “I just want to take a look,” she promises Neku, moving to the rack. Neku lingers awkward by her side, his hands in his pockets.

Some of these clothes would work well on him, Shiki thinks. And that dress looks beautiful; maybe she should grab it for herself? And she is just turning to ask Neku if he is really really _really_ sure he doesn’t want a new outfit when something catches her eye.

“Oh!”

Neku backs away quick when she approaches him. “What are you—“

Shiki is already reaching for the t-shirt hanging up on the rack behind him. Ohhhh, it’s lovely—a soothing shade of mint green, with neat stitching and good fabric… and is that design on the front embroidered? Shiki takes it in her hand, brightening—and then blinks. “Hey, Neku…”

He’s red again. “Look, my clothes are _fine_ —!”

“No, I mean— take this!” It _is_ a shame he’s so attached to his usual outfit; he’d look nice in something like this. The color suits him. But that’s a later discussion. “Maybe it’s just me, but…”

Neku takes the top in his hands skeptically. Then he pauses. His expression goes flat and vaguely confused. “…What?”

“Right? It feels like… Holding it, I feel stronger.”

Neku doesn’t say anything, but his brow furrows, and he eyes the top in his hands warily. “The hell?”

“I wonder if… oh!” Shiki picks up a skirt, bouncing back on her heels in delight. “This one too! And this one… I wonder if this is part of the Game? Fashion giving us different effects?”

“How the hell does that even work?” Neku says, but he’s not shutting the idea down, and Shiki grins at him. He shuffles on his feet. “…Good for you, I guess.”

“Huh?”

“It’s your area of expertise, right? You were just saying, so…” He looks away, scratching at his cheek. “Whatever. We’ve been here way too long. Can we go yet?”

Shiki pauses, though. How funny. He’d been asking those questions, sure, about Mr. Mew and Shiki’s dreams and why she knew so much about fashion, but...

Shiki hadn’t really thought he’d been listening.

She quiets a little at the realization, considering him. Neku’s still a little red from Prince’s comment; he’s most definitely still surly. And he hasn’t been much help at all with looking around. But he’s not… he’s not the worst shopping partner she’s ever had.

He’s no Eri. And he’s _still_ a jerk. But Shiki gives him an awkward smile back, a real one this time, and hugs Mr. Mew to her chest. “Okay,” she agrees. “You’re right. I don’t want to keep Beat waiting too long, anyway. Just give me a sec?”

Neku shrugs and goes to stand by the door. Shiki watches him go, intent, then nods to herself and reaches for the rack again. Now then—where was that cashier?

She wraps up two minutes later and meets him outside the door of Edoga. Neku glances at her once and makes to leave—and then Shiki holds out the mint green tee she just bought, and he stops in his tracks. “W-what?”

“For you.”

“I _told you,_ I don’t need—"

“No, I mean… as thanks for coming along.” She smiles at him. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to! I’m not trying to… you know.” She presses the top into his hands, insistent. “It’s a gift. I just think it would look nice on you, that’s all.”

Neku seems momentarily frozen in place; Shiki steps away before he can shove the clothes back at her, and fast-walks out of Ten-Four before he can protest. In the corner of her eye, she sees Neku press his lips, seemingly annoyed; he looks down at the shirt, expression hidden behind his collar.

He doesn’t move, for a moment. Then he folds up the shirt and puts it away, out of sight in his bag. When he follows after her, his expression is unreadable once more.

But he hasn’t thrown her gift away, and when he catches up to her he doesn’t say anything rude, either. And for a moment his hand drifts back to his bag like he’s checking he still has the shirt at all.

And as Shiki ducks her head to hide a smile, she thinks that maybe this partnership won’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neku and Shiki's budding friendship in day 4 is my favorite thing ever, and as soon as I saw this prompt I KNEW. I knew I had to do it. I just wanted to write them shopping, honestly.
> 
> The mint green tee is an actual item that gives Neku +2 defense, so I figured it would probably be appropriate to use here. Shiki has a keen eye for the best stat boosts, you can't change my mind.
> 
> I'm on twitter as @izabellwit, btw-- come talk twewy with me!
> 
> Any thoughts?


	4. Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua isn’t sure when he starts seeing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reallly late with this one, oh gosh. Forgive any editing mistakes; my glasses broke pretty badly so I just.. do not have the time to edit it past my headache, ahaha. Hopefully it's legible, oh man... 
> 
> Also, for anyone possibly unfamiliar with how I write TWEWY, I write Joshua as genderqueer! (And Shiki as trans and Rhyme as nonbinary, but you guys probably already guessed that.) Just a head’s up, since I allude to it a lot.
> 
> Warnings: implied death via erasure and the Reaper’s Game, and the horrors of the Game in general.

Joshua isn’t sure when he starts seeing them.

Maybe it’s that he’s always seen them; maybe he’s just in denial. Maybe the real question is when he realized no one else saw anything. There’s no point in asking about the game when you think the rest of the world is in on the joke; _I’ll figure it out myself,_ Joshua thought then, newly-renamed and refusing to give the world yet another tool with which to call him confused, because Joshua knows who he is and who he’s not, thank you _very_ much, and he knows he can understand this stupid game and those creatures too if he just gives himself the time to think it through— 

It makes a lot of sense, in hindsight, when he finally realizes no one can see the creatures at all.

It is cold and snowing faintly over Shibuya, and Joshua hides his hands in his pockets and watches the Udagawa alleyway with narrow eyes. It’s early enough in the day that most people aren’t out yet, or awake, but Joshua is not watching for the living anyhow. He has seen these games so many times he knows the pattern of them like he knows himself; the fourth day, the Udagawa mission, and the monster that few duos ever really defeat.

Like clockwork, over and over. _How uninspired._

And yes, there they are—the duo he saw on Scramble Crossing, two days ago, still running around. Faded to Joshua’s eyes like old photographs, except for the timer burned bloody onto their palms. And following after them, bright and bold and burning against the snow, are the monsters.

Joshua leans back against the mural— a brand-new addition to the alley, the paint only just barely dried— and slides down to sit. He wraps his arms around his knees and watches, dully, as the dead and the monsters begin to clash. If he looks at them too closely his eyes will start to ache, so he watches them instead from the corner of his vision, the flickers of fire and lightning and the echoing call of the creatures, the Shibuya noise and color and life made monster manifest, attacking the duo with reckless murderous abandon.

 _Pretty,_ Joshua had thought of them, those early days, before he had found himself and the name Joshua and before he’d known he was alone in seeing them. _Terrifying,_ he’d thought later, when he’d realized they could see him too.

 _Noisy,_ he thinks now, secure in himself and of his safety, and he hides his face against his knees and exhales fog into the icy air. Early morning on the fourth day, and like every week before, the dead are screaming, and then they are silent. Joshua breathes in and breathes out and finds himself annoyed by the sheer repetition.

When he looks up again, the Udagawa alleyway is empty. Joshua tilts his head back against painted stone and closes his eyes.

It is silent, for a moment. The world is starting to wake up, perhaps, because someone else enters the street. He hears a low mutter and a quieter curse. “No winners this time either, then. Ah, what a waste.”

There is the crunch of footsteps in the snow, coming closer. Joshua doesn’t move. The newcome stranger makes a noise. “Huh. Hey, kiddo. You all right there?”

Joshua lets his head fall forward into his arms; he sighs against his knees. “Go away.”

A thoughtful pause. “If there’s someone you’d like to get in contact with—“

Ugh. Joshua lifts his head, annoyed. “I’m not lost,” he informs the stranger, a tall weathered man with dark hair and dumb glasses. And wearing sandals in the snow, who does that? “And I’m not having a crisis, or anything like that, so I would _dearly_ appreciate it if you could just—“

His tongue stalls. Joshua blinks. “Oh. Mm. That’s new.”

The man blinks and raises an eyebrow. And because no one has ever seen the creatures— because no one has ever seen the desperate dead, or the iron-winged judges—Joshua says, certain he will be ignored once again: “Were you aware you have wings?”

The man goes still. His eyebrows shoot all the way up. He kneels down by Joshua; Joshua blinks back at him, thrown off by the reaction, and leans away, frowning.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Joshua notes. “Hmm.”

The man smiles. “Nah, I’m plenty surprised. Wasn’t expecting that.” He pauses. “You come here a lot, kid?”

“Creepy,” Joshua observes.

“Cheeky,” the man observes back, but unlike Joshua’s parents or his teachers or his peers, the man sounds amused rather than annoyed. His lip twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Ah, let me reword. The mural— what do you think?”

The bothersome part is that the man is right to ask—Joshua had not come by Udagawa much until the mural was up, and then he came every other day, whether the game led the dead here or not.

So, yes: Joshua can admit something about the artwork calls to him. But, well, if the man is asking forJoshua’s _honest_ opinion…

“I think it’s pretty tacky.”

The man actually laughs at that; he stands back up and puts his hands in his pockets and grins. “That so? Well, that’s alright.” He tilts his head. “It’s doing its work, even so. You’ve got a lot of imagination.” A pause. “You mentioned wings. Do you see anything else?”

 _Imagination_ stings like a barb; Joshua narrows his eyes, his fingers digging crescents into his forearms. “Shut up.”

“Hey, hey, I'm not mocking you. Tell me honestly. People, places, walls in the center of the street... Anything else at all?”

There is something bizarre about all of this—this ice-cold morning, the creatures roaming invisible on the streets, the dead chasing after dreams. There is something about this man that sits oddly—like he, too, cannot be seen head-on; as if like the monsters and the dead and the games, this stranger is only real when seen from the corner of his eye.

Joshua turns away, faking disinterest; in the limits of his vision, he sees wings. He presses his lips thin, considering.

A moment's pause, and then he chances it. “Is there a reason those creatures look like some horrific cross between random animals and a paintcan, or is it just poor aesthetic?”

And for a moment the man is silent, and Joshua is still and stiff, waiting for it. And then the man is laughing, loud and crackling but not even the slightest bit cruel, and he shakes his head and grins wide. “The Noise are what they are,” he replies, and it is nonsense, it makes no sense, no one has ever seen the creatures nor believed Joshua when he told them—

But there is something about this stranger that rings true.

Joshua considers him. Then he smiles back.

“And what _are_ they, exactly?” he asks, and listens, at last, to the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea that Hanekoma met Joshua by the mural. Kind of goes full circle with the mural then leading Neku to Joshua, too. The siren song of good art! (And imprinting.)
> 
> It was really fun to try and imagine what the Game was like when it was run by the Composer before Joshua. My thoughts kind of went along these lines: likely didn’t have the shopping features, possibly less creative and more just outright deadly missions/wall requests, and the Players, not having shops, being invisible to everyone ALL the time. Joshua’s comments during Week 2 imply the shopping features—the interaction with shopkeepers, the fashion, and funny/non-stress wall requests and all—were probably his additions to the Game. Much like the entry fee, it kind of fits how Joshua is as a Composer, I think?? While aspects of Joshua’s Game seem bizarre, it’s all geared towards either self-reflection (entry fees) or promoting interaction with/learning about the world, like with the wall requests. All this effort, and yet he has no faith in humanity at all. Joshua is a funny person.
> 
> I'm on twitter as @izabellwit btw-- come talk twewy with me!!
> 
> Any thoughts?


	5. Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things just stick with you. Beat knows that better than anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest. Is anyone surprised this one is about Beat. 
> 
> Warnings for: cursing, referenced past character death, implied panic attack/flashbacks/PTSD, general aftermath of trauma, poor coping mechanisms, etc. If there's anything in this I forgot to tag, let me know and I'll add it on here!

Some things just stick with you. Beat knows that better than anyone.

It doesn’t make it any easier, though. Which fucking sucks, yeah—like, Beat knows it’s irrational, okay? He knows he’s not going to get hit every time he crosses the damn road, but the mind is a funny thing. It doesn’t wanna let go of shit even if Beat himself really, really wants to let it go. It’s not even fucking consistent, which is what really annoys him. Some days he gets by with barely a memory, and sometimes… sometimes it’s like he can’t even hear, the screeching in his ears is so loud. Sometimes it’s so bad he forgets it’s already over.

This is one of those times.

On second thought, Beat thinks, he probably should have seen this coming. What’s that phrase Rhyme likes to say; something about hindsight and twenties? The bad days always have warning signs, and Beat has been avoiding the streets the whole way over up to now—and he should have seen it coming, god damn it, he should have caught on sooner. That this ache in his bones is more memory than reality, that the ringing in his head meant a red alert.

Well, it’s too late, anyhow. They’ve hit a road Beat didn’t think to avoid in time, and now he’s stuck at the crosswalk. Damn it, Beat thinks to himself. Damn it, damn it, it’s just a road. Just a crosswalk and a red light and he’s not even alone, he’s got Neku right here next to him. One tiny crosswalk on the way to Cat Street, barely any traffic or cars or other people at all. It should be nothing. It _is_ nothing.

They’re on their way to the H-man’s cafe, just as they do every week. This is as normal of a route as Beat’s got. Rhyme isn’t even here to panic over; there're no cars on the road at all now. It’s stupid. He _knows_ it’s stupid. And he has got to get it together, man, because the light’s going to change to green—has changed to green—and Beat is fighting it, he really is, but he can’t quite breathe at the moment and he sure as hell can’t bring himself to step out.

Neku hasn’t noticed Beat’s stopped yet; he’s already starting to walk across the street. Some part of Beat is laughing at that—even without his headphones there to block out the world, deep down Phones is still spacey as hell—but everything else is going kind of sideways. Because Phones isn’t watching where he’s going, Phones is stepping out into the road, and Beat’s vision goes funny and then he’s grabbing at Neku’s shoulder before he can remember why that’s a bad idea.

He’s pulled them both back to the sidewalk even before the crosswalk light starts to flash red. It’s not smooth—Neku trips back with a yelp and Beat almost falls right over with him, his legs are so weak. Every motion feels like a jolt; his body aches like an old bruise. His breathing is all shuddery. Beat kind of hates it.

Neku catches his feet just before he face-plants, Beat’s hand still tight on his shoulder. He tries to pull away and that blaring panic in Beat’s head makes his grip tighten in response, and Neku twists like he’s about to punch Beat in the face. He is all surprised anger and reflex, and under his hand, Beat can feel him tense up. “Hey, let go! What the fuck was that for? What are you—”

He says something else, too, and Beat should be listening, and Beat should also be letting go, like, right now—but they’re still too close to the road and that’s number one at the moment, that’s all that matters, and Beat backs away and drags Phones with him.

“ _Hey!_ Seriously, what the hell are you—wait, why do you look… Beat?” Something in Neku’s voice changes. “Oi. Beat! Can you hear me?”

They’ve made it to the awning of a nearby store. Beat has his back to the wall. They’re far enough away now that some outside awareness is coming back; it takes effort to unwire his jaw. Damn, he feels slow. Always too fucking slow. “Yeah, I can,” Beat says.

“…Cool. Okay. Can you—” Neku awkwardly pats his shoulder. “Let go? Now. Possibly.”

“Oh.” The words sink in. “Ah, fuck!”

Beat lets go of Neku’s shoulder at last, startled, and it’s a good thing he has his back to the wall, because that’s when his legs give out. He sits down hard. He takes a deep gulping breath and almost chokes on it. Everything is still ringing, a little, but bit by bit the rest of the world is slipping back into focus, finally tilting back somewhat to rights. The road is empty; Neku and Beat are safe on the sidewalk, and the screeching of tires has only ever been an echo in his ears.

“S- _Shit_ ,” Beat manages, with feeling, and drops his head into his hands. His head is pounding. “I—I—Phones, sorry about that, I don’t—don’t know what came over me, yo.” It’s hard to speak. His tongue keeps tripping over the words. Beat grits his teeth.

“You have one hell of a grip,” Neku replies, a little dryly; he’s rubbing at his shoulder, wincing a bit. “It’s fine. I’m not hurt. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I—“

“Seriously.” Neku drops his arm, hands back in his pockets, casual as if nothing has happened at all. After a moment of thought, he kicks at Beat’s leg in some awkward show of comfort. “It’s whatever. You need another minute?”

“That’s…” Beat presses a hand to his head, then forces himself to his feet. “…Nah. I’m all good. Let’s go, yo.”

Neku looks doubtful. Beat steadies himself against the wall and lifts a hand in a fist to show just how fine he is.

“Well, whatever,” Neku says, finally. He shakes his head. “We can cut through the park instead, if you’re good to keep going. Pretty sure we can get to Cat Street that way too.”

Beat splutters. Should’ve known, he thinks. If Phones let something go, it’s because he’s got something else planned. “No, no! Man, I can do this, I—”

“I can’t always make it to the mural, either,” Neku says simply, and the words die in Beat’s throat. “And shooting games are… anyway. I get it, okay?” He lifts his head a little, out of that silly collar, and this stops Beat’s protest right in its tracks: because Neku is smiling one of those rare smiles, lopsided and true, Neku’s quietest expression. “It’s fine.”

Beat blanks a little. Neku waits a moment, then shrugs and walks by him towards the park. Right. Detour.

Beat shakes his head hard, chasing the last of the headache away, and slowly follows after him.

He’s quiet, for a bit. Then he jogs to stand side by side with him. “Yo, Phones.”

“Mm.”

“…Thanks.”

Neku shrugs, simple as that. The smile is gone but the ease is still in his face—all is forgiven. Beat looks down and away, and smiles a little himself. Heh. Some things don’t go away, he knows, but maybe not everything he’s gained from the Game is so bad after all. Even here in the RG, his Partner still has his back.

And it’s easier, with that in mind, with Neku by his side, to leave the road and its echoes behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beat probably has a really complicated relationship with roads after the Game. If he's by himself he can manage okay, but when someone he cares about is with him, that's probably when it hits him hardest. It's probably REALLY bad when Rhyme is with him, and in general Rhyme doesn't do too well with roads for a while after the game either, so they just avoid them together when they can. 
> 
> Writing this was an experience, because Beat is frustrated with himself and beating himself up every other line and meanwhile the whole time I was like "CHILD. YOU ARE HEALING. BE KIND TO YOURSELF." Such an odd feeling.
> 
> On a lighter note, I like to imagine Neku smiling is still a rare enough sight that for every one of his partners seeing it is like “oh.” Neku’s most deadly weapon. No one is immune!!
> 
> I'm on twitter as @izabellwit-- come talk twewy with me!
> 
> Any thoughts?


	6. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua is sitting down at a booth in Ramen Don.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooo boy, I am late. Sorry for the delay!! Last week was kind of murder, honestly, but I'm doing my best to catch up!! 
> 
> Also, blanket warning for all these drabbles from now on: editing is beyond me right now so these might be a little rough but man, that's just life right now jdshgfkj. 
> 
> Warnings: Joshua's... everything, and also references to Game death. Let me know if there's anything I missed!

Joshua is sitting down at a booth in Ramen Don.

The day is bright and the sun is shining, and for a moment Neku is convinced it’s just a trick of the light. The shop is busy, after all, and there’s a lot of people here during the rush hour and sometimes this happens, anyhow. Even now, weeks after the Game, there are times when Neku will blink and see… not Joshua, no, never actually Joshua, but someone who looks like him, or sometimes someone who laughs like him, or just— maybe a flicker of light, sometimes, burning in his eyes, that reminds him of battling the Noise and the burning glow that sometimes haloed Joshua’s eyes when he wasn’t paying attention. Things like that.

But when he blinks and rubs his eyes and squints again, Joshua is still there—sitting down in a corner booth, a bowl in front of him, eating absently. He has his cheek propped against one hand and his eyes on the window. He looks lost in thought, maybe bored—he looks real. He is, Neku is starting to realize, _actually_ there.

Holy shit, Neku thinks, and starts walking.

Joshua barely looks up when Neku approaches; in fact, he doesn’t even twitch. He does smile though—as close as Joshua ever gets to smiling, which means it’s actually a smirk, and _god,_ Neku has almost forgotten this, the irritation, the itching urge to hit that fucking laughing look off Joshua’s face.

“Hello, Neku,” Joshua says, and Neku slams his hands on the table and leans over, briefly wanting to shout, and he opens his mouth to tell Joshua exactly what he thinks of this—

—and in the end, he doesn’t say anything. 

There is silence, for a moment. Joshua blinks at the window and then tilts his head, at last, to look at Neku, almost wondering. “Wow,” he remarks. “I admit, I thought you’d be trying to hit me by now.”

Neku stares at him. He takes a breath but the words still aren’t coming; it’s been two weeks since the Game and one week since Hachiko, since he said _see you there?_ and Joshua never showed, and— and.

“I’m thinking about it,” Neku says, finally. The words are awkward and stiff and too much like the back-and-forth he had with Joshua in the Game and it just—hits him, kind of, that Joshua is just _like this_ , he is important and god-like and apparently all-powerful, and above all else still the same boy Neku knew in the Game. Which is to say he’s a dick. “I just—you—“

“Use your words, Neku,” Joshua replies, and Neku digs his fingers into the wood of the table.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

“Eating.”

Neku blanks.

“My, Neku, you have _terrible_ reception skills,” Joshua informs him. “I distinctly remember mentioning I had a fondness for shio. And, well, after all that time we spent helping out this place, I think I’ve come to have a fondness for it. So.” He shrugs. “Here I am.”

Neku feels a little bit like he’s been knocked sideways. “Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Joshua agrees. “Sorry to disappoint, but not everything I do is a plot point. Any of this sinking in, Neku?”

Yeah, some things certainly are. Neku takes a tight breath and closes his eyes. This should anger him. This should infuriate him, actually, because Joshua shot him twice and lied to him and used him and now he’s just sitting here mocking Neku for— Neku doesn’t even really _know_ what for, just for something. And to be fair, the fury is there. He is, most definitely, angry.

But strangely, bizarrely, more than anger, at this moment he mostly just feels relieved. It’s a stupid feeling. But it’s kind of nice to know for sure that the person he met during that second week really does exist after all, in his very obnoxious glory. 

“Okay,” Neku says, to himself. “Okay.”

“Glad to hear it. Now—“

Neku turns and walks away towards the register.

“—Neku?”

Later, Neku decides. It isn’t over; Neku refuses to let this go. Later, Neku is going to ask his questions and he is going to wait Joshua out until he gets answers; later, Neku will get angry, and react, and do the sorts of things people are supposed to do when facing someone like Joshua. Later, Neku is going to _deal with this_ : what the Game really was, who Joshua actually is, and what he’s going to do in this aftermath, with a maybe-friend who is probably not sorry at all for shooting him but still brought every one of Neku’s friends back to life, even though Rhyme was erased, even though they lost, even though by all rights their lives were forfeit.

Later, Neku decides.

But for now he’s tired, and he hasn’t seen Joshua in a while, and on second thought it says something, doesn’t it, that Joshua never came to Hachiko—didn’t answer, true, but also never intruded, never asked anything of Neku after the Game was done. Neku could leave all this behind, if he wanted to. The Game, the Reapers, the Composer. He could move on and leave those three weeks merely a memory. 

And for some reason, the fact he could _leave_ —that he really doesn’t have to do this, or ever talk to Joshua again—settles him. It’s a quiet sort of understanding, and it leaves him kind of quiet too. He could leave. He could.

He doesn’t. He orders a bowl of shoyu ramen, instead, and when it arrives he picks it up and sits down across from Joshua at the booth. He stirs the broth and dunks the egg and lets the silence settle, and when he looks up again Joshua is still, blinking a little fast, for once looking at a loss for words himself.

Neku waits. Joshua hesitates and opens his mouth—and then stops, and looks away, and doesn’t say anything for a long while. Then he sighs. He shakes his head and picks up his chopsticks, again, and his voice is quiet, almost a murmur under his breath.

“Oh, Neku,” he says. “Always so full of surprises.”

Neku shrugs. Joshua huffs. But he says nothing more, and while later may tell a different story, for now they eat together in silence, and in the sunshine and the daylight and the noise of the restaurant now booming, it almost feels like it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found Neku's end-game speech REALLY interesting, and I wondered how that would translate to meeting Joshua again in person? Like, he definitely doesn't forgive him. But at the same time Neku seems open to still being friends, and that's something I think would especially kind of knock Joshua sideways. Because what.
> 
> (Also, a quick head's up-- if any of you are readers of my twewy fic "all that's left in the world," an update IS scheduled for today, but also I'm super super behind on editing so... we'll see. I'm still going to try to get it out this week, if not today then either Monday or Tuesday! I'm really sorry for the delay.)
> 
> I'm also going to try and catch up on these twewytober drabbles too, ahaha. None of the others are super long, so hopefully...! 
> 
> Overall, any thoughts?


	7. Petrify

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, Eri decides, as the sun starts to rise and the Shibuya skyline lightens with the dawn. I’ll find Shiki today and apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GOO
> 
> ive decided this is catch up week (so no long fic updates until next sunday, sorry!), so basically i have three drabbles done and im just gonna try and post these bad boys all at once. lets see how this goes!!
> 
> fair warning i have barely edited like. any of these. please be kind sjkdgfkj
> 
> Warnings: implied/referenced canon character death

_Today,_ Eri decides, as the sun starts to rise and the Shibuya skyline lightens with the dawn. _I’ll find Shiki today and apologize._

She is sitting up in bed after a restless night of blurry nightmares and Shiki’s face on repeat, the way her expression fell, the way her smile stuttered out into tears. Deep down, Eri is exhausted. In her head her own words play back, _you’re not meant to be a designer_ and why, why had Shiki looked like that, what had she heard from those words that Eri didn’t mean to say—but the sun is up and the day is new. Eri takes a breath and watches the sunrise and knows. She’ll set this right.

But when she gets up and calls Shiki’s cell, she gets sent to voicemail. And when she calls Shiki’s house phone, no one picks up. And when Eri gets dressed and heads to down to Ten-Four because that’s their place, that’s where they always meet, that’s where they met the first time—when she gets there, Shiki never shows, and none of the texts Eri sends her are answered.

 _Is she ignoring me?_ Eri thinks, with a flash of annoyance—because come _on,_ how on earth is Eri supposed to set this right if Shiki won’t even let her talk?—but it falls, quickly, into worry. _I hurt her. I really, really hurt her._ Never mind that Eri doesn’t know how or why—she must have. It makes a lump rise in her throat. Oh, god. What had she said? Why had it hurt? She’d only meant—

 _I have to find her,_ Eri thinks, and shoves her phone back into her skirt pocket. She’s been to Shiki’s house before; it’s not too far to walk nor too late in the day to head over, and it’s a weekend, so surely one of her parents must be home. The day is bright and the weather is fine, and surely that’s a good omen, isn’t it? It’s not too late. Eri still has hours left before the day is over. She can fix this.

And she is racing there, she is running back, when her phone finally starts to buzz.

Yes! she thinks, and she snatches at it, glowing, relieved. But it is only her own parents, and her smile falls, and she almost hangs it up—Shiki is more important, they’ll understand—except, Eri thinks, except why are they calling her? They had plans for today, they left early this morning with warnings that they’d be back late, and it’s not even the afternoon hours yet. The sun hasn’t even begun to set.

She takes the call.

“Eri? Eri, honey, thank god. Eri, come home. We need to talk, there’s—there’s something we have to tell you. Eri—“

The sun is bright, and the day is new. But there is ice in Eri’s heart that is spreading, that is growing, reaching down through her lungs to her throat and to her insides and to her toes. The light aches in her eyes and her hands are so stiff they spasm. She can’t breathe. She can’t speak. _You’re joking, right?_

The day is not yet over; there’s so many more minutes to go. But Eri hangs up the phone, numb, shaking slightly, and realizes it was too late long before she’d even opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even fathom the horror that is having a fight with your best friend and accidentally hurting them... only for them to DIE before you can even get a chance to apologize. That is tragedy-grade stuff right there, holy shit. 
> 
> Eri makes me sad, basically.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	8. Handmade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh,” Shiki says, one day in the afternoon. “I almost forgot! Here, Neku, this is for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm making progress y'all
> 
> Warnings: the usual swearing, and implied/referenced past attempted murder, a la Neku and Shiki's Day 2

“Oh,” Shiki says, one day in the afternoon. They aren’t exactly going anywhere—nor doing anything particular—just walking around and taking in the city and the sights and the sounds, Shibuya in entirety, the city they’ve come to know through blood and tears and the pound of their feet against the pavement. “I almost forgot! Here, Neku, this is for you.”

“What are you—“ Neku says, and then he sees exactly what she’s holding out to him and visibly blanks. “…What is _that?”_

“Well,” says Shiki, warningly. “First of all, it is _not_ a pig.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Neku says, but eyes the thing anyway. It’s a stuffed animal, that much is obvious—catlike and small, made of the softest fabric Neku’s ever held, with fur dyed a dark burned orange color like rust and a little purple collar. Neku has a terrible feeling about this. “Shiki. Why did you model a cat after me.”

“You have a distinctive style,” Shiki says, with remarkable pep. She looks a little embarrassed, but mostly just determined, like she’s ready to argue this tiny stuffed cat’s case in court. “You don’t have to carry it around with you or anything, but I hope you keep it. It’s… well, this is going to sound a little silly, but…” She ducks her head, fiddling with her glasses. “Happy friend-anniversary?” Neku doesn’t move. Shiki huffs a little. “It’s been one year since we met, Neku.”

“It’s been a _year?_ ” Neku says, startled, and then thinks it through. “Damn.” And then he thinks about it, really and actually thinks about it, about meeting Shiki, and something goes a little tight in his chest. “I—that’s—”

“Oh. Oh, you don’t like it. I’m sorry, I just thought—“

“No, I just—I don’t—Shiki, why would you want to remember that?” Because it has been a year since they met, maybe, but Neku and Shiki had not been friends then. Not really, not in the least, not until the end of that week and even then not _truly_ until after the Game. Those first few days, that first meeting, Neku had been…

But Shiki is smiling at him, a little. “I forgive you,” she says, quietly and easily. “And it’s okay. We made it okay, I guess? And even though it started that way… I’m really glad I met you, Neku. I’m glad we’re friends. So I guess that’s why I made this?” She presses the stuffed animal against his chest, waves Mr. Mew in her other hand, and grins. “Now we match.”

It’s embarrassing as hell, but also so very Shiki, and at last Neku reaches up and takes the cat. His ears feel hot. He looks away. “…Partners,” he says, and despite it all the joke almost makes him laugh.He doesn’t have the words to say it, but he is glad he met Shiki too. In a way she has made him into who he is today—because meeting her, and knowing her, and being friends with her had been the catalyst, and it had meant everything. She is the first friend he’s had in a long time, and because of her... because of her, he has so much more.

And so: “Okay,” Neku says. “Happy… friend-anniversary or whatever.”

Shiki giggles a bit, like she finds the name as ridiculous as he does, but her smile is bright and true. Neku offers a shy smile back. The moment lingers, quiet and calm. She is right about this too, in the end. For however rocky their beginning, they have made it okay.

“Now you gotta name her,” Shiki says. “I was thinking, Miss Mewl?”

“Nope,” Neku replies, and turns away before Shiki can splutter at him, hiding his smile in the lip of his collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I could not for the life of me figure out who to end this one but //shrugs
> 
> I don't know if it really came across, but my attempt at the prompt was kind of two-fold-- not just Shiki making Neku a hand-made stuffed cat, but also a reference to/acknowledge of how they changed and shaped each other too during the Game. They had such a big impact on each other's stories, and I've always really loved that.
> 
> Shiki absolutely makes tiny friend-anniversary gifts for everyone else too, Neku's is just special because he was the only one who was her Partner. 
> 
> (The cat is dubbed "Piggy" by Neku because he's just Like That, and Shiki never forgives him for it, by the way.)
> 
> Any thoughts?


	9. Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is this,” Neku says, staring down with mild horror at the color-coded pins in front of him. “What are we doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing humor, but also I am SO BAD at writing humor... I need to practice more, alas. I hope you guys like it anyway!

“What is this,” Neku says, staring down with mild horror at the color-coded pins in front of him. “What are we doing.”

“Really, Neku, weren’t you listening?” Joshua reaches down and picks out the pink pin before anyone else can comment, and flips it through his fingers like a coin. He’s grinning. “After your dismal failure at the competition last year, honestly, I thought you’d be just raring to go for a re-match.”

The worst part it, Neku is actually tempted. Because he _did_ lose, and it _still_ kind of stings, and yes, fine, maybe he’s been keeping up with Tin Pin in his spare time a bit because honestly bouncing his pins off the walls when he’s stressed is just, really satisfying, and—and then he sees Joshua’s smirk, wide and wicked and knowing, and crosses his arms.

“Absolutely not,” Neku says, like a liar, and stands firm even as Joshua snickers at him.

“But Neku, we can’t be a team with just four people!” Shiki says, as earnest as ever. “This is the first year they’re ever running a team tournament, too, we can’t miss out!”

She doesn’t even _like_ Tin Pin; this Neku knows for fact, and he gives her a betrayed look. Why is she turning on him?

Shiki looks away just as fast. “Also,” she says, a little mumbly. “The winning pin is—one of a kind—“

Yeah, okay. “Eri wants one.”

Shiki splutters. “That’s—I’m not—she mentioned it to you too?”

If Joshua laughs any louder, Neku is going to have to hit him. “Okay,” he says finally, exasperated. So that’s why Shiki’s doing this. Problem solved. And Joshua, well, Joshua’s just a dick and likes laughing at Neku’s failures, so that’s him down. So that just leaves—

“Why the hell did _you_ agree to this,” Neku says, bluntly, giving Beat and Rhyme his best side-eye. “Seriously. Do you even know how to play Tin Pin?”

“I’m sure you can teach them, Neku, since you’re _such_ a pro,” Joshua says, like the slimy bastard he is. Neku ignores him.

“Er, well,” Beat says, looking just as awkward to be there as Neku feels. He’s flipping a yellow pin through his fingers, restless, tossing it from hand to hand absentmindedly. “Nah, but how hard can it be, yo?” Neku is not impressed. Beat slumps a little. “Yeah, okay, but Rhyme asked me to. I can’t say no to that, right?”

Neku turns to Rhyme.

“I think I could win,” Rhyme tells him, frankly. “I like winning.”

“…Really?”

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun. And we can all do it together! If two heads are better than one, then five heads is sure to net us a win.”

“Unfortunately for that logic,” Joshua says, mildly, from behind them, “I’m afraid the competition will also have five heads. Given that this is, you know, a team tournament.”

“Well,” Rhyme says. “That’s.” There’s a pause. They slump. “Shuto Dan goes to my school. He’s really cool and I wanna be friends with him, but I don’t know how to talk to him, so…”

Shiki has her hands pressed against her cheeks. Joshua giggles. “My, my. Hoping to catch his eye and get him to befriend you instead by beating him? Fifth graders are so dramatic.”

Beat gives Joshua a dark look, then turns to Rhyme and pats them comfortingly on the shoulder. “Yo, yo, don’t worry about it!” He grins and makes a fist. “We’ll win you the competition _and_ your new friend! Right, Phones?”

…And now everyone is staring at him. Neku squeezes his eyes shut, then holds his hand out, resigned. “Fine. Give me the damn team pin.”

Joshua solemnly hands him a pin.

“…Why am I blue.”

“Because dear Rhyme has picked black out of some supposed grade-school angst, and green is really Shiki’s color,” Joshua informs him. “And red is too close to pink, and I refuse to share unless I have to.”

Neku looks down at the pin. He looks back up, ready to protest, then sees Rhyme’s face and slumps. “Oh, whatever.” He clips the team pin to his lapel and sighs. “Okay. Fine.” If he’s going to be a part of this, damn it, then he’ll give it all he’s got. “Let’s win that tournament.”

Shiki pumps a fist. “Lets!”

“Hell yeah, yo! Let’s go!”

Rhyme looks delighted. Neku sighs and smiles back. Well, they’re doing it for a good cause, right? So how bad can it be?

“Truly," Joshua adds, "those grade-schoolers will have no idea what hit them.”

“...Shut up, Josh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Day-esque shenanigans ensue, only this time its a lot more like a romcom. Only instead of rom its... frien? I don't know how that wordplay would work, aaah... dramatic friendship-comedy. You get the picture. (Whatever happens, know that Shooter and Rhyme do, eventually, manage to be friends by the end, and also that Joshua laughs about the stupid drama for FOREVER.)
> 
> One last drabble for tonight, and then I'm aiming to catch up on the rest by tomorrow! 
> 
> Any thoughts?


	10. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Neku? You’d better pick up that gun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for endgame events, and all that implies.

“Neku? You’d better pick up that gun.”

There’s a countdown in his head, running fast, running slow, running on a system that isn’t time, really, is just thought and wondering and a lot of oddities all finally clicking into place. He thinks he feels dizzy, and also like he wants to sit down, but Joshua is smiling the same smile and god, it’s true, isn’t it? It really is him. This really is happening.

Neku picks up the gun. It’s warm in his hands, burning; he feels cold and his hands are clammy. His mouth is dry. His throat is choked up. He feels like he’s biting back words, almost, except the truth is there’s nothing Neku can think of to say.

He aims, and it should be easy. Joshua is still smiling. There’s a countdown in his head, ticking off time in twos and threes and _zero,_ Joshua said once, when they were grabbing food at Ramen Don and talking about the Game, about nothing at all. _Like those old American westerns, you know. At zero, you shoot._

It should be easy, because Neku has done this before—because three weeks ago he almost killed Shiki for the crime of being talkative and annoying and for nothing at all, for an empty promise, so this—this shouldn’t even compare, right? Joshua, whose promises were never _really_ empty, not when it mattered, Joshua who has lied to him and used him all along and is holding the city hostage, Joshua against this city Neku has learned to love—against Beat and Shiki and Rhyme—against everything—

_Trust your partner._

It should be easy, but his eyes are hot and his vision is blurry. It’s so fucking stupid. They were hardly even friends, really, and Neku has never been under any illusion about that—hardly even friends, and barely even partners, but Joshua had been the first person Neku really _understood,_ deep down, _you are just like me—_ and that matters, apparently.

That matters a lot, actually.

He’s running out of time. The gun feels awkward and shaky in his grip; he’s trembling so hard he’s not aiming right in the least. Joshua isn’t moving at all, in comparison. Shock-still and arm straight and aim picture-perfect, with a blank face and a quiet smile.

_But Neku—_

Joshua versus the city, and it shouldn’t be a choice at all. Neku shouldn’t hesitate. He shouldn’t.For everything—for everyone—for all he’s learned—

_I thought you couldn’t afford to lose._

He can’t.

But Neku still lowers the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a more introspective piece that the other fics I've written thus far, and honestly, it's one of my favorites of the bunch. I love writing introspection, and this moment... man. The ending of the game gets me every time.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	11. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up in Scramble Crossing after the end, and for the whole of that day, Neku cannot believe it is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CATCH UP TIME
> 
> i havent edited these at ALL and maybe later I'll go over them (apologies for any spelling errors, it is late and my brain is dead asdhfgk). probably I should have waited?? but I really want to read what everyone has been writing and I've been holding off until I caught up and aaaAAA i want to knoww
> 
> anyways! fic incoming

He wakes up in Scramble Crossing after the end, and for the whole of that day, Neku cannot believe it is over.

He calls Shiki, he calls Beat, he hears about Rhyme and almost has a very messy breakdown in public because he forgets the crowds can see him again. He calls his mom, even, and talks to her for the first time in ages, and it is— it is something, yes, but it is not enough. He doesn’t go home. He paces the streets. He stays close to Hachiko and the Scramble because he knows if the Game starts again he needs to be ready to find a partner.

The more time passes the more afraid he becomes. He checks his phone religiously; his bare palm, free of the timer, seems alien to him. As the sun sets from midday to afternoon, the restlessness itches under his skin. Neku taps his foot and walks back and forth between the streets, exhausted, shaking, refusing to accept it, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He doesn’t know when he passes out. He sits down near Hachiko one moment, and then—and maybe it is because he is waiting for it, or maybe it is three weeks of fear catching up him. But when he opens his eyes again, it is no longer day, and his phone is cluttered with missed calls from his mother.

Neku doesn’t move. He stares at the calendar on his phone—still the same date, the same day—and tilts back to his head to look at the sky. Pitch dark and empty because the stars never shine in Shibuya; but the city lights are aglow in his vision and—it’s dark. The day is over and now it is night.

For the whole of those three weeks, Neku hasn’t seen sunset even once.

Hachiko is empty now. The people have congregated to the shops and left this place for tomorrow. He is alone on the bench, in this tiny pocket of quiet evening darkness, in this day slowing turning. He is still here, Neku realizes. He’s really here.

It is dark, and quiet, and safe at last—and Neku curls up on the bench, eyes burning, smile wavering uncertainly on his face, and finally dares to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cities at night, and after three weeks of non-stop days, I think seeing the nighttime again, seeing the darkness again, would be a great comfort for Neku. It's like the final proof-- he really has made it through the day. The Game really is over.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	12. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the truth of the matter: Sanae has never been all that good at keeping secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for casual murder attempts and mentioned assassination attempts and just a lot of endgame/secret report spoilers in general.

Here’s the truth of the matter: Sanae has never been all that good at keeping secrets.

He hasn’t got the drive for it, see, hasn’t got the style. Too much effort for too little payoff, and really, what’s the point? It’s a secret poorly kept because Sanae has rarely cared for keeping it; he interferes in the Game and checks the rules and while he never answers any questions about his role, who he is and how he knows these things, well, he’s pretty sure more than a few are suspicious.

So, secrets— not his deal. It is why, when Joshua gambles the city and sets the terms with a smile on his face that assures victory, Sanae lights a cigarette and puffs a smoke, and thinks about killing him. Shibuya or Joshua, and while he’s always been fond of the kid Sanae has loved this city for centuries and counting, before She even had a name; there is no contest. Joshua would understand, if he knew—and he will know, Sanae is certain. Sooner or later, Joshua will find out. After all. Sanae has never been that good at keeping secrets.

He tries, even so. He enlists the arrogant Reaper as his assassin because the boy is someone too proud to boast of Sanae’s help; he sets up his own game, and prepares for the battles ahead. Joshua is cheerful and sly and knowing, when he calls him, when he talks of his strategies, and so far Sanae thinks Joshua is still in the dark. For now. If he survives to the end of this he’ll surely put together the pieces. And what will happen to Sanae then? He can’t say he knows for sure. Probably he should be preparing for that, instead.

He doesn’t. He’s not sure why, himself; just feels a little cold, he supposes, to try and save his own skin after aiming to kill Josh. He really does like the kid. Probably, if he fails, he should give Joshua his fair shot to kill him too. As the saying goes.

Sanae shapes the game, and writes his reports, and waits until the endgame. He witnesses the final choices and gives his final remarks. He keeps the secret best he can, and waits for the truth to come to light. He doesn’t mind it much. Sooner or later, everyone gets their due—

And as he finishes the final report, his treachery laid out in full,he wonders a little, to himself, if he ever really wanted to keep this a secret at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so hard to write and I'm still not sure if I nailed what I was going for... I've just always found it funny that Hanekoma literally writes the reports--and, taking the secret reports literally, write the full truth (that he is the Fallen Angel) in the reports, too. Like, why take the risk? Plus with his slip-ups in the game, other things that may have clued Joshua in-- Hanekoma isn't the greatest at secrets, not really. And when it comes to his actions during the Game, I can't help but wonder if he WANTS to be found out. For whatever reason.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	13. Equipment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after the Game is over, none of them can bear to throw their weapons away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAD ZERO IDEAS FOR THIS

Even after the Game is over, none of them can bear to throw their weapons away.

Part of the appeal is that no one else even realizes they’re weapons, which makes it all the easier to get away with. Sometimes Neku’s mom wrinkles her nose at his pin collection like she’s trying to figure out where he got them all, or why he stiffens like he’s been stabbed whenever she mentions that maybe he wants to throw some out, maybe? But she doesn’t see it as suspicious, and nor does she realize Neku’s reaction is less because he likes the pins themselves, and more because the idea of throwing any one away is almost offensive. Because what if he needs it? Reapers are always asking for spare pins so it's always good to keep some on hand, and anyway all of his partners had different tastes and thus needed different decks to work best with. For Shiki he has the bullet pins, the lightning bolts and beams and one-shot-kills; for Joshua the blades, slicing winds and calling down debris, cutting close while Joshua nails the Noise from above. And Beat—Beat was all bashing the Noise down headfirst, and Neku would shake the ground under their feet so the Noise would better fall under his skateboard and he makes the air grate with sound and throws debris in their way to buy Beat time to kill them—

And even though the Game is over, the strategy lingers, and the pins collect in his drawers and his bags and his pockets, a comfort when the shadows get too close.

It helps, too, that he’s not along with this. Shiki brings Mr. Mew everywhere with her now, especially the first two weeks, after almost a year of never having him with her at all; Eri must question it, but Shiki never answers. It probably does look concerning—like she’s trying to comfort herself, or something—but the truth is that Mr. Mew makes her feel strong, now, that instead of shielding her this stuffed cat instead makes her feel like she can take on the world. Sometimes she looks at the skyscrapers and thinks: at my strongest I could have leveled you to rubble, and ducks her head with a smile.

Beat is the same way—but then, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, because he always skateboarded before the Game too. But Rhyme says he does it differently now, and maybe he does? Before he was angry, he was hitting the streets with all he had like he could make a place for himself in the aftermath, but now he skates slow and quick and wherever he likes, with purpose, with skill, with strength. He’s found his place—Hachiko, Ramen Don, Shibuya—and he’s survived these streets, and something in that makes him feel a little more settled, a little more at ease, with the board beneath his feet and the whole city his for exploring, because after all he’s been through he’s found there’s not much else to fear.

If they are lucky, they will never need these tools again—but if they aren’t lucky, and the next Game comes anyway, they are all of them ready to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa


	14. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you considered, perhaps,” says the strange, probably-demonic boy who has begun lurking outside Makoto’s restaurant, “lessening it a little on the… aesthetic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this idea fully possessed me at the very break of dawn and truly I think it is a sign

“Have you considered, perhaps,” says the strange, probably-demonic boy who has begun lurking outside Makoto’s restaurant, “lessening it a little on the… aesthetic.”

Makoto doesn’t answer. He is ducked behind the counter, head down, eyes squeezed shut, praying no one else walks through the door. This boy is _probably_ not going to kill him— too-bright eyes and too-sharp smile aside, he’s so far seemed mostly amused by Makoto’s immediate urge to hide from him. But better than safe than sorry, right? What if looking at him directly gives him ideas!? Or, or—triggers some weird mechanism that turns this boy from creepy to murderous? Makoto hasn’t forgotten his _last_ regular customer. Orange hair, possible crush on him ( _so_ weird, how does one deal with situations like that anyway), and so very, very resembling the boy found shot out by the alleyway.

Nope, Makoto thinks. No thank you. He is not engaging.

“I admit, it may be too late for a name change,” the not-boy continues. “Shadow Ramen is here to stay. Unfortunately. Though in that regard you could perhaps lean into it, as Princess K’s shop is just around the corner, and you could use that to draw in the same crowd… but in your case the resemblance in style is rather accidental. You don’t much have the bravery for it, either, I’m afraid. Mm, well. At the very least you could invest in getting a few new menu items.”

A pause. “Oh, are you still ignoring me? Honestly, I thought we were past that.” The boy leans over the counter; Makoto squeaks and scuttles back. “Come now. I’m just offering some friendly business advice. You aren’t the most… imaginative person, but in the new spirit of giving chances, I rather think I’m doing my best, hmm?”

This close Makoto is almost certain the boy’s eyes are glowing. He feels faint. “P-please don’t kill me!”

“Now, whatever gave you that idea?” The boy giggles. “Dear, if I wanted you dead, you would be.”

Makoto wheezes.

“Oh, never mind it. You aren’t listening anyway; I’ll be back.” Makoto makes a noise; the boy grins. “Oh? What was that? Nothing to say? Fantastic. See you soon.”

No! Makoto thinks, horrified. He’s missed his chance! Doesn’t the folklore always say refusing invite is the first step to banishment?

“You’re hilarious,” the boy informs him. He steps to the door, yawning into one hand, playing with his phone between one blink and the next. Makoto hadn’t even seen him move; cold sweat beads down his spine.

The boy reaches for the door and then pauses. He turns to the walls, and stands there for a long moment, as if taking it all in: the posters and the music and Makoto’s poorly hand-drawn attempts at skulls, and shakes his head.

“Tacky,” he sighs, like it's a personal affront, and then vanishes as if he’d never been there at all. Makoto sinks to the ground, and knows better than to hope—because the boy’s laughter lingers in the air with an echo, and every one of Makoto’s poorly hand-drawn skull stickers has been replaced with doodles of much-better looking skeletons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Joshua legitimately trying to help? Is he just bored and blowing off steam by critiquing Makoto's angsty fashion choices? Is he aware Makoto thinks he's a demonic entity and just screwing with him? Who can tell...
> 
> Also, I've finally caught up!!! Hopefully I'll be able to keep somewhat on schedule from now on. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Any thoughts?


	15. Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They open the new shop close to the spot where Shiki died, though she doesn’t tell Eri that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of the usual Game stuff.
> 
> I didn't have a lot of ideas for this one, but I hope you guys enjoy!!

They open the new shop close to the spot where Shiki died, though she doesn’t tell Eri that.

In truth, part of the reason Shiki chooses the location is because of that fact. It feels—morbid, maybe, as Joshua laughingly says when he finds out, but it also feels right. To start her new life where her old one ended—to reenter the Game in this place, the same way she did years ago. To have things come full circle, at long last.

It’s a lovely store. It’s got everything Shiki’s ever dreamed of—a cute apartment on top for her and Eri, a lovely workroom in the back, open space and gleaming windows. They spend a whole weekend unboxing with Beat and Rhyme’s help and another week setting up, choosing what fashions to set out first, their plans for the next year and a half, what they’ll do if sales fail—what they’ll do if sales succeed. 

It is everything she has ever dreamed, and Shiki smiles the whole way through.

Neku arrives on the Tuesday; he dabbles in art and music both nowadays, and they’ve already decided he’ll do a couple of murals on their alley walls. Today he is here for something else, though, something Shiki asked him in private and he agreed to without question, and she steps out back with him in a morning hour so early it’s still dyed blue, the air sharp in her lungs, the wireframe of her glasses burning cold.

“You’re sure it will work?”

“I asked Josh beforehand, just in case.” He shakes the paint can in his hand, hard. He’s cut his hair shorter than usual, and it looks nice on him, frees up his face. He still has those silly wide collars, though; something about that never fails to make Shiki smile. Even after years of Shiki and Eri’s badgering, Neku’s fashion sense is set stubbornly in place. “It’ll work. He, uh, says congrats, by the way. Apparently your stuff is going to give killer stat boosts.”

“Affordable prices, too,” Shiki says, pleased to hear it.

“No Player will ever shop at Pegaso again.” Neku smiles at her. Then he turns to the wall. “…You’re sure about this?”

She has already decided, deep down—still, she is grateful he asks. It is a fair question. The Game has haunted them all in different ways, and Shiki has run from it and run towards it in equal measure. The Game was fear and death and pain; it was power and realization and friends for a lifetime. Like this dream-come-true now settled down near where her dreams once ended, it is a paradox she has never fully come to terms with. She thinks that is rather the point.

She reaches out and brushes her hands against the stone, and gives him a quiet smile. Neku understands, she knows. He, too, has run from the Game—and in that same way, he has never been able to leave it behind.

“I’m sure,” she says. She steps back and settles on her heels, hands tucked in her pockets. The quiet blue morning, someone else’s Day 7, an end and a beginning. She watches quietly as Neku gets to work, and the Reaper’s Decal blooms to life on the walls, inviting the dead to her door.

Morbid, maybe: this is true. But she is grateful for this, for this chance, for this tiny shop on the Shibuya street corner. This little haven that might, maybe, save a life the same way these open stores once helped save hers many years before. Mr. Mew has never moved under her direction again, but Shiki has never forgotten. There is power in her hands, in her, in this imagination sparked bright and burning—

And even now, Shiki thinks, she isn’t done with the Game just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've ALWAYS loved the idea of Shiki opening a shop for the Game later on. It feels just... very appropriate to me? As much as these kids are happy the Game is over, I don't think any of them would be fully able to leave it behind, because it's had such an impact on their lives-- both good and bad. Plus, if they stay in touch with Joshua... 
> 
> Any thoughts?


	16. Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megumi maps a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohoooooo, this is late....
> 
> apologies for the delay!!! i swear i'm still working on this thing, october just kind of... yeah. yeah. also my brain latched onto genshin impact as a stress relief so twewy stuff has kinda flatlined in my head dhjgfkjgj whoops
> 
> i have drafts written for all the days though, so i'm just gonna bite the bullet and upload them all! i'm aiming to be totally done by this sunday. these are all going to be very short fics from here on out, but i hope they're still entertaining!! 
> 
> thanks for sticking with me y'all 💖

He gets to work without delay, the very moment his Composer leaves the Underground. The timer on his hand is burning red and bold and searing, a pain Megumi has long forgotten in his decades as Reaper, and the sting of it haunts him through every action. _One month._ So generous, and yet, at the same time, still so little time. He must make this work, and quickly. He cannot afford mistakes. The Game begins again tomorrow; the Composer’s Proxy will surely be among the Players. Megumi must be ready.

He is alone in the Dead God’s Pad, and he leans back against the wine counter and exhales softly as he looks over it. Normally this place is meant for the Composer’s design; everything here, however, is all Megumi’s. Another choice of the Composer that Megumi has rarely questioned. He is grateful for it, too. The sleek design—the lights—the way the room arranges. It is all to his liking, to his fancy, all in order nice and neat.

If only their city could be so structured, Megumi thinks. If only the city could follow the Composer’s design, the Composer’s will, as cities should.

It is too late for thoughts like that, he knows. It is too late to do anything but damage control. Inelegant, perhaps; heavy-handed, maybe—but Megumi already knows what must be done.

A single thought, he decides, taking up a pen and beginning to write the order. A single drive with a single purpose… yes, he thinks. This will do nicely. This will do just fine.

The timer is ticking down on his hand, but Shibuya can still be saved. Megumi will make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megumi's plan may have been flawed, but man, you just have to respect the effort. Those three weeks were one hell of a chess game.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	17. Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the secret: Shibuya is always singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied murder! Nothing graphic, just. Joshua's usual shenanigans. You know.

Here is the secret: Shibuya is always singing.

Hers is a distant melody, a clear note—a million voices and a thousand winds and a hundred more echoing chords. She is sunlight on the streets and reflecting off the windows; She is open doors and flashing colors and laughter ringing high and clear in the air. She is fashion, imagination, choice and confidence; She is bravery. When Joshua first takes the Composer’s throne and hears the song, She is beautiful.

He holds fast to that memory, to that moment. He grips it tight, because he is losing everything else. No longer can he find the melody in the air: now Her discordant notes make his head ring, and Her streets are buzzing with monotony. New stores, old fashion, dull ideas; eyes all fixed down to the pavement, crowds moving past and beyond each other without any awareness that someone else is there at all.

Music, Joshua knows, must be written , must be composed—he does his best. But every tweak to the river is erased in moments, and every time he tries to guide the memory it fades back to the droning hum without delay. It is noise, it is all just _noise,_ and he cannot find it anymore. He cannot remember clearly what She used to sing, the song that steadied his hand on the gun and guided the bullet that won him a throne.

Which falls first—the city, or him? Maybe it is his fault, or maybe it is Her fault, or maybe Cities and Composers are so intertwined there’s no chance at marking where the fall first began. The end result is the same, even so—this rotted melody, this distorted lullaby, and Joshua closes his eyes and listens to the ringing in his ears, and says, “It has to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been curious about Composers and cities and their influence. Shibuya and Joshua especially, because there's always this question of, well, what started it? Did Shibuya's corruption bitter Joshua's look on life, or did Joshua's bittering look on life twist Shibuya...? Or was it both? Throw music into the mix and that's basically this whole ficlet.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	18. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiki isn’t watching where she is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death!! This is basically a "how I think Shiki died" fic so like... be careful.

Shiki isn’t watching where she is going.

There’s a whirlwind of thoughts in her head, a storm behind her eyes; her breathing is tense and her hands are shaking. The words play on loop even as she shies away from it, the words and the way Eri said them and the look on her face— _you’re not meant to be a designer,_ and the absolute worst part was that Eri said it kindly, said it soft, with a little fond smile and a shake of her head.

_Shiki, don’t be silly! You’re not meant to be a designer._

Her breath hitches. Shiki’s hands fist in the hem of her skirt. She’s been so stupid—so silly—because really, Eri’s right, isn’t she? _Don’t be silly—_ but worst of all, most hateful of all, Shiki is angry. Deep down beneath the despair she is livid. Perfect Eri, amazing Eri, who Shiki can’t match up to at all, apparently, and it’s terrible, Shiki’s terrible, she’s walking down the street in the middle of the night hating the only friend she’s ever had, the friend who’s just trying to set her straight.

Her eyes are burning, blurring. Her cheeks are damp and hot. Shiki scrubs at her face, hating it, hating herself, hating Eri. She muffles the sob in her elbow and then she takes off running, like that alone is enough to escape it. Her boots are pounding the Shibuya pavement and the city night lights are shiny and glossy to her vision, and in her head Eri’s voice says, _Shiki? Shiki, why do you look… wait, where are you going!?_ High-pitched and afraid and hurt, and Shiki did that, somehow. Shiki hurt her. But who cares? Should she care? In the end, she thinks, this whole thing just hurts.

She wants it to go away. She just wants to go away—

And she is not looking, she is not watching, she is running away trying her best not to fall in the spiral of her own thoughts, when her foot slips out from under her.

She drops hard. Something breaks behind her eyes; something else echoes in her head. The lights of the city are a kaleidoscope blur, and in her last moments of living Shiki doesn’t think anything at all—too stunned, too surprised, to even feel angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought Shiki's death was an accident; she seems extremely focused and serious on getting back to life in the start of the Game, and it's only really mid-way through that she starts hesitating. That's just my view of it, though!
> 
> Any thoughts?


	19. Parallel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you ever think,” Joshua says, “that maybe in another world the most dramatic thing to happen to anyone is Tin Pin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could I not talk about Another Day. I LOVE Another Day.

“Do you ever think,” Joshua says out of the blue, sometime during Day Four, “that maybe in another world the most dramatic thing to happen to anyone is Tin Pin?”

Neku, finishing off the last Noise and feeling exhausted down to his bones, shakes the last bit of lightning from his hand and gives Joshua a look. “No, Joshua,” Neku says. “I have literally never thought that, what the hell?”

“Hee hee. No need to get all worked up. It’s just a thought.”

“I just— Tin Pin?”

Joshua smiles at him, all smug humor and knowing. “I bet,” he says, “that you’d be it’s biggest fan.”

Neku rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Uh-huh.”

“Since you’re such a pro, you know.”

“You’re just sore you lost this morning, aren’t you?” Neku says, flatly.

Joshua’s smile twitches a little. Neku grins.

There’s a pause. “And I,” Joshua says, gamely ignoring the slip, and Neku rolls his eyes at the sky now, as if to say, _do you see this asshole—_ “I think I’d be a writer.”

Against his will, Neku finds himself curious. He snorts. “A writer?”

“For a Tin Pin magazine. Yes.”

“I—seriously?”

“You do recall the prompting thought was, again—“

“—most important thing in anyone’s life is some stupid pin game, yeah, got that.”

“Oh! So you were listening! Neku, I’m shocked.”

Neku ducks his head in his collar, muttering, and Joshua laughs again. The street is clear of Noise and the Reaper they’re hunting down for interrogation is no-where in sight; they’ll have to move on to the next street. But for now Neku settles his hands to his pockets and looks over the city, and says, “I wonder if…”

He trails off. Joshua makes a noise. “Hm? Care to share with the class?”

And it’s stupid, really, but now that he’s had the thought he can’t let go of it. “I wonder if we’d know each other there, too,” Neku says. He avoids Joshua’s gaze; he doesn’t want to see the other boy laugh at him. “If I’d know… who I’d know, I guess. Without the Game.”

There is a pause. And then Joshua does laugh, only it’s not quite what Neku was expecting: less mocking and more surprised, almost thoughtful.

“Oh, Neku,” Joshua says. He’s smiling, and there’s something strange in it—a glow, almost, in the shadow of his eyes. “There’s always a game, in the end. It just depends on what kind.” A pause, as that statement sinks in. And then Joshua tilts his head and that teasing glint is back, that echo of something else gone from his face, and adds before Neku can recover: “ _I_ bet other-you would read my articles.”

“I’d hate them,” Neku informs him, knowing nothing of the sort, and heads off down the last street without delay, Joshua giggling by his side. And it is strange, it is unearthly, and there is a moment he almost wants to take and look back at and think, _wait._ But it’s Day Four and he’s tired, and Mr. H said trust your partner, and instead Neku takes this idea of a world where they’re all together—Neku and Shiki and Rhyme and Beat and yes, even Joshua—and Tin Pin bizarreness aside, for a moment that whisper of another future makes him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joshua, who hasn't been to Another Day yet but loves being a know-it-all: watch me hunt this very specific alternate universe down just to prove myself right haha
> 
> Any thoughts?


	20. Potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “O-of course it’s edible!” Beat says, loudly, like the worst liar imaginable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introducing: teens doing teen shit

“O-of course it’s edible!” Beat says, loudly, like the worst liar imaginable.

Joshua just smiles, mainly because if he laughs aloud the boy will take it badly, and as amusing as a fight would be this is _so_ much funnier. “Of course,” he echoes, delighted, and takes the cup almost cheerfully. The drink isn’t edible at all; it is pasty and clumpy and turned a weird mix of pastel pink and neon yellow from food coloring, and it smells, inexplicably, like a mix between sugar and steak.

Behind Beat, Neku looks torn, like he’s not sure whether he should be warning Beat of danger or warning Joshua, and in the end he just gives Joshua a look that is all suspicion. Joshua giggles. “So? How do these bets go again?”

“It’s real simple, yo,” Beat says, starting to grin now. He seems to think that he’s fooled Joshua completely, and behind him Neku gives him an incredulous look. Joshua’s smile widens. “The whole game is to drink it, and if you throw up, you lose.”

“And if I don’t throw up, I win,” Joshua checks, and when Beat nods, hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know… what’s the prize?”

“The— prize?”

“What do I get if I win?”

“That’s... uh—" Beat looks briefly hunted. “You, uh… get to call yourself a man…?”

Joshua wrinkles his nose. Ugh, fragile masculinity games. Joshua isn’t even a boy. “Pass,” he says, distasteful.

Beat scratches at the back of his neck. “…Yeah, that’s fair. Dunno what that even means, anyway. Okay, uh, how about— a favor! Yeah, yeah, whoever wins gets to ask a favor. No holds barred!”

Neku is staring outright now, something like horror in his expression. Beat is grinning in preemptive victory. Joshua stifles a laugh and takes the cup, and smiles sharply back.

“Now _that_ ,” he says, power warping briefly beneath his skin, “sounds like a bet worth taking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joshua wins. I mean, he totally cheats, but he still wins. (Any ideas on what the favor will be? I'm betting on "pay for my ramen for three weeks.")
> 
> Any thoughts?


	21. Ouija

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Neku decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none of these are very edited but they are DONE hahaaaaaaa... ha....
> 
> (I'm so sorry I took so long please forgive me,,)

“This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Neku decides.

He’s sitting in a circle with candles lit all around them, a flat piece of paper nestled in the space between their knees. Beat and Shiki are sitting right next to him, Rhyme next to Beat and Eri next to Rhyme, and Joshua sitting right across, either so he can smile and unsettle Neku at opportune moments or because he likes feeling at the head of the table. Maybe both, knowing Joshua.

At his comment Eri rolls her eyes, and Shiki gives Neku a look that says, clearly albeit without words, _really, Neku?_ Beat just scoffs. Joshua, meanwhile, clicks down the coin with a smile bright with challenge.

“Please, Neku,” Joshua says, in a scolding tone that immediately makes Neku want to punch him. “That simply isn’t true. You lot have made far, far more questionable choices. For instance, talking with me.”

“Fine,” Neku says, exasperated. “Then it’s the—I don’t know, second stupidest thing we’ve done, whatever. Why are we even doing this?”

Eri shrugs. “Reaper Creeper’s pretty cool. I don’t know what you have against it, Neku. I just thought it’d be more fun in a group. Mina swears by the method.” She messes with the paper again. “You don’t have to be here.”

“I think it’s cool!” Rhyme says, which is now two less people on Neku’s side. Beat grins in agreement. Shiki, who looks wary of the game but has also been convinced by the sheer power of Looking Cool For Eri, leans over and pokes Neku’s arm, and reminds him, “You promised.”

“I’m regretting that.”

“Well, I’m not letting you out of it, so…”

Neku slumps. At the head of the group, Joshua giggles. “Wonderful. All last-minute protests silenced? Then let’s get going.” Neku eyes him suspiciously; Joshua studiously and cheerfully avoids his gaze. “Eri, was it? This _was_ your idea. Would you like to do the honors?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” She takes the coin and inhales deeply, as if readying herself—and then pauses. “What should I ask?”

With a group of normal teenagers, this question probably would have made sense. In a group of teens consisting of former Players and one all-powerful Composer, all of whom know exactly how Reaper Creeper actually works, it’s met with an awkward silence.

Eri waits an extra few seconds, then scowls at them. “Well, you guys are certainly setting the creepy mood… okay, okay. I’ll figure something out. Uh… Reaper Creeper, every can of my favorite soda is gone from the fridge. If my mom drank it all, go to black.”

A pause. Beat, Rhyme, and Shiki stare expectantly at the coin; Neku watches Joshua, sharply, and rolls his eyes when Joshua winks back. The coin shifts. Eri yelps. “It moved!”

Yeah, Neku sure fucking bets it did. Seriously: the worst idea. If it’s not the Players messing with them, it's probably Joshua, and the chance of Joshua giving terrible advice for sheer shits and giggles is way too high to risk. This is going to end terribly.

“Oh, it moved too fast… let’s try a different one. Reaper Creeper… I’m pretty sure my teacher hates me and is going to give me a failing grade. Uh, if I’m right, go to white!”

Neku sighs, leans back, and settles in for a long night.


	22. Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhyme gets rather good at games, after.

Rhyme gets rather good at games, after.

It’s a strange thing, really, because they don’t think they were all that fond of games before this. Sure, Rhyme had liked a good board game or so, but video games had been a passing interest and sports barely ever on their radar. So it’s funny, a little bit, that after losing dreams and losing life to the Game, capital letters always included, that instead of coming to hate games, Rhyme actually starts getting rather good at them.

Beat finds it a little morbid, and he tells them so; still, their brother is nothing but supportive. Rhyme knows better than to mention it to Shiki, or Neku—maybe they will understand, but then, that’s why Rhyme doesn’t really want them to know. Instead they gather up old consoles and play games until their fingers ache, try sports until their head spins. They pick things up and drop them within the span of a week.

“You looking for something?” Beat says, after the third game Rhyme starts, succeeds at, and then quits half-way through. Rhyme shrugs. They don’t really have an answer, and aren’t really sure why they’re doing this, either. There is just a restlessness—a pull—a feeling like standing still and tapping your foot, ready to move.

And then school restarts, and Rhyme walks into their classroom just in time for a pin to smack them on the forehead.

Or—almost smack them. Rhyme jolts out of the way with an adrenaline they haven’t felt since the Game, and realizes too late there’s no Noise and they’re inside and—and then they unbalance, fall over, and when they get up again another boy is leaning over them.

“Yikes!” he says. “I’m so super sorry! I was slamming _way_ too hard, whoops. Hey, you alright?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Rhyme says. They sit up properly. The boy has spiky black hair and a red headband so bright it makes Rhyme squint.

“Great!” the boy says. “Man, those were some _killer_ moves though! Like, wow! Reflexes like that— hey, do you know Tin Pin?”

Rhyme knows Tin Pin through Neku, who refuses to explain or practice it when anyone is watching. They shake their head. The boy’s eyes light up.

“A new recruit!” he cries. “Let me show you! It’s all about the slamming of souls, come on, you can borrow my pins if you want to try it out—“

This is how Rhyme gets into Tin Pin—and more importantly, this is how they meet Shooter. For the rest of that day they flick pins back and forth—first hesitant, and then strong, and then with a mischievous smile when they knock Shooter’s forehead in revenge for earlier. A battle of the soul, Shooter calls it, and having been in a real Game of the soul, Tin Pin doesn’t really compare—but there is energy in the air, a spark in the flick of their fingers, control and power and victory ahead—

And when Rhyme goes home that day, it is with a new friend and a few new pins, and with that restless beat in their head finally, finally at peace.


	23. Meme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s like getting stickbugged,” Rhyme says one day, and Neku puts down his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry

“It’s like getting stickbugged,” Rhyme says one day, and Neku puts down his phone.

He is not the only one frozen, and he takes great comfort in that: apparently it's not just Neku who feels a little like he got smacked face-first by an elephant Noise. Shiki looks like she isn’t sure whether to laugh politely or start worrying, and Eri is blinking fast like she’s trying to put the words in order.

Beat, who looks like he hasn’t any idea of what Rhyme just said, just holds out a fist and says, cheerfully, “Hell yeah.”

Rhyme blinks at him. Then they look at Neku. “What?”

“What?” Neku echoes, a literal incredulous. “I— _what?”_

“Stickbuggy?” Eri wonders. “I thought we were talking about surprise gifts.”

“No, stickbugged— oh!” Rhyme sits up straight. “Have you not been stickbugged yet?”

“That’s not a word,” Shiki says, in the tone of voice that says she’s starting to doubt herself.

“No, it’s—um, I dunno, like getting… here, I’ll just show you!” Rhyme fumbles at their pockets and pulls out their phone, and meanwhile Neku exchanges looks with Eri and Shiki and Beat as if to say, _you get it, right?_ Eri nods, Shiki bites her lips; Beat shrugs.

“This!” Rhyme leans in, holding out their phone. On the screen, a tiny green bug waves back and forth. “Stickbugged. It’s the new meme.”

“Meme,” Shiki says. “Isn’t a meme like… you know…”

“No, no, not that kind of meme, it’s—a real meme—I don’t know how to explain this.”

Neku stares at the dancing bug and has no idea at all what they are talking about. He’s sort of afraid to ask.

“How is this like surprise gifts?” Eri is saying, skeptically.

“Because it’s like rick-rolling, but better.”

“I— what?”

The internet moves so fast, Neku thinks. He sinks down into his collar, fifteen years old and utterly out of the loop, and wonders with some horror if this means he’s getting old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert: i still have no idea what stickbug is an at this point I'm too afraid to really ask


	24. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Rhyme’s favorite color.

It is Rhyme’s favorite color.

It is the shade of their hair and the sunshine in the hottest summers; it is the stained glass window decoration they hang above their desk. It is the crayon they picked up most in grade school and the color of their favorite mug; it is their brother’s color.

Yellow is: sound, bright and bursting; the clattering noise of skateboard wheels against the pavement and their brother’s echoing laughter. It is Beat’s smile, crooked and wide and bold; it is the weight of his hand on their shoulder, warm and secure. It is the color of the flowers Beat is too embarrassed to admit are his favorites—delicate, tiny things, dandelions growing up between the pavement cracks, and sometimes when skateboarding Rhyme’s brother will stop and look at them, crouch down and squint and nod, sagely, at what he finds. “This thing’s been here for months,” he’ll say of the dandelions, and grin. “Take that, weedkiller. Tough little guys, huh, Rhyme?”

Rhyme is dressed in black, sure, and they have never minded it—that people associate the color with them, that Rhyme associates the color with themself. But black, while Rhyme is fond of it, while it is their color—it is not their favorite.

They like their dark clothes, the skulls and the hairpins and the comfy shoes. But for all that people like to say Beat stands in Rhyme’s shadow, Rhyme thinks it is their brother who really shines. His is the brightest color.

So it’s funny, isn’t it? Yellow is Rhyme’s favorite color, and it is the last thing they see—the sunlight in their eyes, their brother falling back; the golden glint of daylight on the distant windows. But is duller, now, colder, now—because their brother isn’t smiling at all, and in that moment the light flickering before their eyes seems less like gold and more like a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will admit, i had NO IDEA what to write for this one. sorry rhyme


	25. Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been wondering, yo,” Beat says. “How the hell are you fitting all that shit in your pockets?”

“I’ve been wondering, yo,” Beat says, sometime during Day 4. Neku stops in the street and turns to him. “How the hell are you fitting all that shit in your pockets?”

“What?” Neku says, and then blinks. “You mean—”

“The extra food, yo, and—and all that junk, too, the weird ores and shit.”

“I’m not,” Neku says, a little bewildered.

“What? Man, don’t mess with me.”

“No, really. I’m not.” Neku takes out his phone and holds it out. “Shiki figured it out, from—from what you and Rhyme told us, Day 2. About our phones helping manage our pins, she tried it with stuff too. See?”

“Seriously?” Beat looks at it. “You don’t have, like… a bag or some shit?”

“Nope.”

There’s a thoughtful pause.

“This game is so damn weird,” Beat says.


	26. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I trust you,” Neku will tell him, again, a year and four months after the Game.

“I trust you,” Neku will tell him, again, a year and four months after the Game. This time to Joshua’s face, and he will say it quietly and with purpose. “And I guess, now, maybe one day I can forgive you, too.”

Joshua is quiet at this; he is caught off-guard by the sincerity, the seriousness. It takes him a moment to let those words sink in, and another moment to recognize their implication. He doesn’t smile, as he would if Neku had said this at any other time; instead Joshua looks back, sharp andsearching and a little thrown, and Neku’s eyes glance away and back.

They are not alone—Neku is forever dragging Joshua into the streets, to these other Players new and old. They are seated around Hachiko in the late hours of the evening; the Shibuya skyline cast in shades of red and purple-black, the lights shining soft and iridescent in the place of stars. It is a long day, the energy wound down. Rhyme is slumped against their brother’s shoulder as quiet as mouse, deep asleep; Beat himself fiddles with his phone, and adjusts every once in a while so that Rhyme doesn’t topple off his shoulder. Across the way Shiki is dozing off, her head lying flat on her friend Eri’s knee; Eri is leaning back and staring at the sky, absent-minded, her free hand playing with the ends of Shiki’s hair.

And then there is this: Neku, leaning back against the statue; Joshua, standing beside him.

Joshua is silent, for a moment—watching Neku watching them, the way the quietest of smiles is curling fond and disbelieving at the edges of his expression. He looks away before Neku catches him watching, and keeps his eyes on the sky above, and says, not unkindly: “Don’t be silly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The implication here being, mostly, "don't thank me/forgive me for something you found yourself," if that makes sense.


	27. Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiki wakes up early on design; her alarm rings loud and shocking when the sky outside is still dyed dark and blue with the arriving dawn.

She wakes up early on design; her alarm rings loud andshocking when the sky outside is still dyed dark and blue with the arriving dawn. When Shiki opens her eyes her eyelids are gummy and her limbs heavy. She stares at the ceiling for what feels like minutes, vaguely confused, and then she remembers what she set her alarms for and rolls out of bed so quick she almost face-plants.

She gets ready so quick she just about forgets to take her pills, and has to run back inside to grab her HRT before the door closes and locks her out. She takes her pill in record time, just barely remembering to chug down water with it. Her bag she’d set up yesterday, and she steals a few minutes more to make cocoa in a thermos; her mom is standing at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, watching the proceedings with a smile. By the time Shiki races for the door again, her mother is laughing and about to call out a question, but Shiki is already running— “Sorry, mom! See you later!”

“Careful, Shiki!” her mother calls back, and by then Shiki is already gone, rushing down the stairs, her bag swinging wildly from her shoulder.

By the time she reaches the store, the line is already growing; Shiki takes in a deep breath and scans the line. She would have been here sooner, if she could, if schoolwork and her own sleep schedule allowed it, but he had promised—

“Yo, Shiki! This way!”

She jolts and turns. And there he is—Beat, in his usual getup and his hat pushed up away from his eyes, front of the line and grinning wide and proud. He looks as if he hasn’t slept all night, and Shiki gapes for a moment and then rushes to his side, breathless.

“Beat!” she says, stunned. He looks exhausted, and god, he must be—the _front of the line,_ she thinks, and feels dizzy. “How did you— I—”

“Told ya I’d save you the best spot,” Beat says, and despite the shadows under his eyes his smile is bright as ever, and greatly pleased. “How’s this?”

“Did you sleep at all?” Shiki says, aghast, and when he shrugs she splutters. “Beat!”

“Aw, it’s no big deal. ‘Sides, you’re up early too, y’know? This is important!” He claps her on the shoulder and laughs. “This is what I did for Rhyme’s pendant too.”

“But—” But it’s not even for her. “I…”

He grins at her. “It’s for Eri, yeah?” She stares at him, and he nods. “I gotcha, yo. Neku filled me in on the details—uh, on accident by the way, so don’t get mad about it. But confessing’s hard work! So let me help, yo.” He grins and thumbs at his nose. “This is the kind of stuff I’m good at.”

“I think you might be a better sale-finder than me,” Shiki admits, still a little stunned, and finally relaxes. “Beat… I don’t know what to say.”

“Eh, it’s whatever. You can treat me to a burger and we’ll call it even.”

Shiki shakes her head, because that is not even remotely balanced, but Beat is smiling and the air is cold and the line is stretching out far behind them, and all at once she starts laughing.

The sun is just starting to rise; the air is crisp and cold and biting. There’s an hour yet until the sale begins, and as they wait together in the cold, Shiki slips off her bag and takes out her prepared food—breakfast, hot cocoa in a thermos, an extra scarf. They camp out by the doors, waiting for the rush to begin, but in this quiet moment waiting with a friend, Shiki sips at her drink, ducks her head, and smiles.


	28. Winner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shot echoes in his ears, and Neku drops the gun. 

The shot echoes in his ears, and Neku drops the gun.

 _As simple as the pull of a trigger,_ Joshua had said, and yet—he watches Joshua crumple inward, one hand to his gut, and it feels like white noise in his ears. It can’t be that easy. This is Joshua, who treats the Noise like a game and the Game like its something inevitable, Joshua who has survived everything up to now. It can’t be that easy. _Please don’t let it be this easy._

Except it is—Joshua is on his knees now, and laughing soft, and a moment before the world whites out he lifts his head and looks Neku in the eyes and says—

And then he is gone and Neku can’t breathe right. His hands are shaking. He steps back and the world is singing, and Beat is shouting again and Shiki is crying out, but Neku can hardly hear them. Because there is something else—a song—and it is loud, it is so loud, it is echoing and half-corrupted by the red and twisted cruel by the greed, and Neku reaches up and curls his fingers in his hair and tries to breathe.

Shibuya is screaming. There is a single thought taken root in their heads; a thousand minds blanked and turned to buzzing silence. It’s awful. It’s terrible. It crawls up in his throat like bile, and even though he’s dropped the gun Neku can still, somehow, feel the press of it in his hands.

_I knew you had it in you, Neku._

He’s won, and Shibuya is safe, even if twisted beyond recognition. He has won, but Neku sinks to his knees in the cold room, and wonders why the world feels as though it is finally ending.


	29. Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have one, Neku?” Shiki says.

“You have one, Neku?” Shiki says.

They are all of them sitting around Neku’s apartment living room, Neku half-lying on the couch and Beat squinting at his homework on the table a few feet away. Rhyme, on the floor, is practicing Tin Pin techniques. Shiki is the only one standing, kneeling down by a cupboard under the TV, and when Neku blinks and looks over, she sticks her head back out and clarifies, “A switch! Oooh, and there are some games in here, too!”

“Oh, yeah,” Neku says, and sits up, swinging his legs over the lip of the couch. “I don’t play it much, but yeah. I, uh, only have the one controller, though.”

“That’s alright! We can two-player it and switch off.” Shiki pauses and then giggles a little. “Switch…”

“Very funny.” But Neku reaches for the controller regardless, holding it awkward in his hand. It occurs to him, belatedly: “Idon’t know how to play.”

“You got a switch and all these games, and you don’t know how to play it?” Beat splutters, incredulous, and Neku shrugs, quieting. He is not sure how to say it—that this had been a gift from his parents after his friend died, a last-ditch attempt to get him to meet other people, to try, a lone console and multi-player games, and Neku had looked at it and not even bothered to really touch it. He does not know how to put it into words, that he has not had friends in—ages, in a while, that he has gotten used to not having friends. That even after the Game, it had never occurred to him: that he could sit here in his home with his friends by his side, and play games like a regular kid.

“Well, that’s all right,” Shiki says, when the silence stretches too long. Neku looks at her, and she smiles. “We can learn to play together.”

A pause, a moment of thought—and then Neku smiles back.


	30. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Beat sees his reflection in a window, the black specter of a wing over his shoulder, he almost drops his board.

The first time Beat sees his reflection in a window, the black specter of a wing over his shoulder, he almost drops his board.

It’s like the world’s worst fucking horror movie jump-scare—it looms over his shoulder like a curse, and it is so sharp and stark in the mirror it shocks him, startles him, makes him still mid-step and stare. _Wings,_ he thinks, and he should have known, but he still feels sick. _I have their wings._

He stares, and—and it's a stupid thing, maybe, something he should have seen coming, should have expected, but it still stuns him to see it. Because Beat sure hasn’t _felt_ it, yeah? He took the Reaper title and the job in the same breath, but he hadn’t really felt all that different. A little stronger, maybe, a little more substantial, but still the same as ever. So to look in the reflection and see the wings— _their wings_ —

They are like a dark iron: heavy, almost reflective, and pitch black in the light. They are welded together in mismatched junctions and jut awkward and spiny over his shoulder blades. They are his own. But in the looming shadow of the mirror, he almost thinks they look like a brand of a different sort.

Rhyme’s pin is warm in his hand. His breathing echoes. Beat reaches out and brushes his fingers over the reflection, the wings and the promise and everything he’s signed his soul away to, and tries to convince himself it will be worth it.


	31. Game Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero, Joshua thinks, and shoots.

_Zero,_ Joshua thinks, and shoots.

It’s a very cold affair, a neat and tidy ending after the whole messy debacle of the Game. Neku drops and the timer ends, and Joshua lowers his own gun with a sigh. There is blood pooling the floor and a distant ringing in his ears, the echo of the ricochet. One shot, one bullet fired—

He studies Neku, laid out on the ground, and finds he cannot yet bring himself to smile. _Now,_ he thinks, _why didn’t you shoot?_ He’d had every reason to. Joshua had made sure he’d had every reason to.

And yet. Only one gun fired.

It is petulant, maybe, but Joshua’s next thought is: _I hadn’t even finished the countdown._ Mid-way through that final time limit, and Neku had lowered the gun with seconds to spare. Strange. Unsettling, Joshua thinks, and his frown deepens.

He is still quietly watching Neku fade out the floor when Hanekoma comes up behind him. His footsteps brush soft against the cold stone floors, and for a moment Joshua almost thinks to smile. He tilts back his head, instead. “Hello, Sanae,” he says. The other stills. Joshua doesn’t like using his first name, and they both know that. “Come to try and finish the job yourself?”

There’s a pause, weighted and considering. Hanekoma doesn’t reply.

Joshua sighs, heavily, and when he drops the gun it vanishes before it even hits the ground. “Really,” he says, reflectively. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Your assassin was rather obvious, Sanae. And you slipped up more than once.” He turns and smiles. “So?”

Hanekoma considers him. At last he leans back and puts his hands in his pockets. “Phones doesn’t have much time left,” he replies, mild, and Joshua narrows his eyes, smile edging into something cold.

But all the same, he is not wrong. “Is that so?” Joshua says. “It makes sense. Game over, after all.” But despite the flippancy of the words the meaning sits ill with him. He looks back at Neku—the gun, unfired. He had lowered it with shaking hands. He’d closed his eyes. Stupid, really. Had he thought Joshua wouldn’t take the shot?

…No. There’s no way, surely; Neku, for all of his sentiments, has also always been practical. The city and his friends and himself on the line, he would have known better than to risk it. So why, then? Why did he lower the gun?

“Boss—”

“Shush,” Joshua says, no longer in the mood to deal with him, and his voice snaps more than intended. He is—unsettled. Off-guard. _Taken aback,_ yes, that’s a better word. He has won the Game and settled the score, and it is time to put his promise into practice. Shibuya, after all, is once again his to deal with.

And yet. He hesitates.

 _They won’t change,_ Joshua had said once, sick of his city (or was the city sick of him?) and he knows, he _knows,_ he was right, he was not wrong. Not then. But one month later Joshua stares down at Neku’s body and knows, deep down, that three weeks ago if he had pressed that gun in his hands, Neku would not have hesitated.

The room is silent, the city is still: the world, holding its breath. Joshua closes his eyes. He does not think of that past week—he does not think about the Game—but it is there, in the back of his mind, all he’s seen and all that has happened, culminating in this final moment.

And then he opens his eyes and reaches out his hand, to the city and the song unending, a thousand lives in the palm of his hand—

_Neku, I thought you couldn’t afford to lose._

A cruel thing to say. A cruel thing to think. Joshua knows he can’t. Joshua made sure of it.

But Neku had still lowered the gun.

—and Joshua makes his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me until the end of this collection! I know it took longer than October for me to finish, but I really appreciate all your kind words and comments, and I hope these quick little stories were entertaining!
> 
> Any thoughts?


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